To The Nights We Don't Remember
by amberlizabeth
Summary: AU. Oliver and Felicity meet before the island. AKA the story about nothing.


A/N: I own nothing. Rated T for drunk idiots.

The club is crowded. Music and lights blur together into one familiar sensation and Oliver Queen knows that he is totally, completely, drunk. He justifies this state to himself because he's stressed. He just dropped out of school again and hasn't told his dad yet. There was that whole pregnancy scare. So, Ollie thinks that this particular bender is a bit warranted.

The plan goes wrong when he realizes his phone is dead. Or missing. He can't totally remember. The club has so many strobe lights and the music is extremely loud and he can't keep his thoughts straight. All he knows is he needs his phone to call someone.

Oliver fumbles his way back to the bathroom, hoping to locate his phone again. He passes by Tommy, who is grinding with some girl that Oliver might know. Or, more likely, should know. They try to high five, but since they are both spectacularly drunk, they miss. He turns back around to try again, but Tommy has disappeared into the crowed. Swallowed up by the sea of people. Oliver can't see him anywhere, but Oliver is having trouble seeing anything.

He finds himself at the bathroom. He isn't sure how he got there. There is a line, a long one. He can't think of a time where he has ever had to wait in line for the bathroom. He stands behind a much shorter person. Something is off, but he can't put his finger on it.

"Uh, you okay there, buddy?"

A girl is looking up at him with heavily lined eyes. She has long black hair, probably dyed. She's one of those Goth girls. The eternally scowling ones, that listens to Fall Out Boy, and has a lot of piercings. She's staring at him like he's an idiot.

"Wass dat?"

"Oh god," She says. "You're tanked."

"No," He says, with a small smirk. "I'm Ollie Queen."

"That would explain the drunk thing then."

He can't think of a good comeback for that. "What're you doing in line for the men's room?"

"I think the real question is, what are you doing in line for the ladies room?"

Oliver suddenly realizes what's wrong with this picture. It's a line of women, short skirts and high heels, standing in line for the _ladies _restroom. Where his phone almost definitely is not.

"Oh," Oliver says. "Thought this was the bathroom, the bathroom for guys I mean. Looking for my phone."

"Are you gonna puke on me?" The girl asks. "Cause these shoes are expensive…although I guess you can afford it, but I'd rather not get thrown up on even if it is Oliver Queen vomit. Not that I want to be vomited on by you—"

"Please stop talking."

All the talk of puke was getting to him. Suddenly the smell of a bar bathroom overwhelms him. Everything smells like toilets and vodka. The girl in front of him is just a massive blur. The world was spinning and his body was no longer under his control. His stomach churned, the kind of unpleasant lurch that never meant anything good. He should not have had the sushi tonight.

"Oh, shit."

That's all he remembers until he finds himself outside. The brick wall feels cool on his forehead as the last of his countless drinks hits the pavement. Someone his rubbing small circles on his back. For a second he thinks that Tommy is being a good friend, or that someone called Laurel. He looks over his back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and it's the girl from the bathroom.

"How ya doing champ?" she asks.

"Been better, been worse."

She hands him a cup of water, which he downs gratefully. The girl smiles at him. He's not one for all black and tons of eyeliner, but this girl is cute. No doubt about it. When the water is gone, she hands him his phone.

"How did you find this?"

"Well, after you puked on my shoes, which you owe me for by the way, you kept whining about your phone. And, not to brag, but I have mad skills. So I used my phone to ping your phone and…"

Oliver doesn't understand anything after that. It's all nerd nonsense, as far as he's concerned.

"Thank you for…everything I guess."

"Just upping my karma game." She smiles brightly.

"I never caught your name," Oliver says, his head is starting to hurt but looking at her makes him smile.

"I'm Felicity. Felicity Smoak."

He promises, swears up and down, that he will remember her tomorrow. He will get her new shoes. He promises. Writes her number on the back of his hand and falls into the back of the cab.

The next morning he remembers nothing after the sushi. Two days later he's getting on his father's yacht. So, he never gets a chance too look up the smudge number on his hand or figure out where the vivid memory of a girls smile comes from. Oliver Queen doesn't think about that night for a long time.

It's years and lifetimes later. Diggle just left to go take care of his new baby. Roy is somewhere; Oliver finds that it's usually better if he doesn't know. It's just him and Felicity watching over the city.

He places a cup of coffee in front of her as she switches to different city views on her monitors. It is, for once, a quiet night. Oliver is, as they say, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Felicity regards him thoughtfully, taking the cup in her hands. There is a small smirk on her face, the all knowing one that he hates.

"What is it, Felicity?" He asks.

She pauses, just for a moment. "Do you remember when you threw up on my shoes?"

"Uh," he says. "No. When was that? When I was on Vertigo?"

She laughs so hard she snorts. "No, no, this was pre-island Oliver Queen. You threw up on me when I was in line for the bathroom. It was at some club six years ago. I helped you find your phone and then you threw up in the alley for twenty minutes. Then you promised to get me new shoes and that you would never forget me."

Oliver is speechless. He doesn't remember. How could he not remember her? He had met Felicity Smoak and forgotten all about her. Even with an island and a few near death experiences, he can't believe he forgot.

"I'm sorry," he says, sadly. "I don't remember."

"It's okay. You were so, so, drunk and…I didn't exactly look like me back then."

"I wish I remembered."

There is a long period of silence. He racks his brain, trying to remember that night, but nothing comes up. He can't remember half his nights before the island.

"I'm glad you don't remember," she finally says. "If you had remembered me, you probably never would have asked me to help you. And then we wouldn't be together…not like together, together. Partners. Not like—"

"I get it, Felicity."

Another moment of silence, the good kind where they are just smiling at each other. And then, "You still owe me for the shoes, though."

Two mornings later, a brand new pair of heels is sitting on her desk.


End file.
